The Vow Not Taken
by leilahali
Summary: It's a mystery as to why Felicity Smoak left Oliver Queen at the altar. Five years have passed with no word. Oliver has almost lost hope, living a loveless life alone. What he doesn't know is that Felicity left to join the League of Assassins, which may just be the death of our beloved IT girl.
1. Chapter 1

**FF#7 The Vow Not Taken**

**By Leilah Ali**

**Written 4:48pm-5:58pm**

"Don't be afraid."

It was a repeated mantra in her mind, a replayed refrain constantly reminding her of what it was imperative she do. Because Felicity Smoak feared a lot, and that fear could mean her demise. Fear was her enemy. Fear held her back. And fear would push her forward.

"Again."

"Again."

"Again Smoke! AGAIN!"

The accented voice of Ra's Al Ghul urged her over and over to punch the post in front of her. Her knuckles were already bloodied, but the fire within her and the voice from her mentor egged her on.

"Enough." Turning to face the leader of the League of Assassins, Felicity put her hands on her knees, breathing heavily.

It had been five years since she had left Starling City—left Oliver rather—to join the League of Assassins. In these five years, her mind and physique had altered into a completely different Felicity Smoak. Hours of grueling training, katas in the dark, sparring in a blizzard had morphed her from delicate IT girl to trained killer. The cause for her desertion of the Arrow irked her everyday, and try as she could to stifle it, she couldn't get the clear blue eyes of her partner out of her mind.

"Master Ghul," she bowed, "what is it you wish me to do next?" Keeping her waist bent, she awaited the man's orders. Ra's Al Ghul was not a daunting man physically. He was of average height and build, head balding with age, and wisps of a mustache and a beard grew. It was the eyes that sent shards of ice through the heart—black, blacker then the night, with no distinguished change between the iris and the pupil. They were cold eyes, a killer's eyes. Felicity had only seen Ra's in action once, and it was enough to scare her into never crossing the man ever.

One day, as a number of students began their morning drills, a young recruit turned to Ra's Al Ghul, who had been assisting another student, and asked why the repeated moves were necessary. In the blink of an eye the recruit was lying on his back, ten fellow recruits beating him to a pulp. They only ceased when Master Ghul simply said "Enough". Walking slowly to the now whimpering man on the floor, he reached the body and placed his boot on the initiate's neck, constricting his windpipe. The man bent closer to the recruit's face. Felicity only heard what was next because she was so close to the debacle. In a deadly voice, Ra's hissed, "Because I deem it so. Consider yourself relieved of your position in our league." The boy was never seen or heard from again. She could only guess what that meant.

"Smoke," he began, calling Felicity by her chosen name. When she had first come to the institute, high on the mountains of Tibet, one of her first tasks was to choose a new name. A name that would separate her from her previous life, making way for her new one. A life that didn't involve a certain vigilante.

Perhaps "Smoke" wasn't exactly separate from her past life, but it held meaning to her. She wished to be like smoke—subtle, and unnoticeable, mysterious when looked upon, but deadly in concentrated doses.

"I believe you are ready for the final trial. Are you prepared?"

The final trial was something of legend. Each assassin had to go through it to officially become a member. No one knew what it was exactly, but it was known that the task was life-threatening—perhaps the toughest thing anyone could face. Sara Lance had had to do it. Felicity had yet to see Sara, but according to other students, the legendary "Canary" wouldn't come back to the institute—no one did. After graduating, assassins were sent out into the world on their missions.

Felicity knew that what she was doing was dangerous. Trying to graduate as a sanctioned killer but not be a part of the League of Assassins was suicide, but she had to do it—for Oliver.

_Don't think about him now Felicity._

"Yes. I am prepared."

"Good. You are dismissed."

She turned to leave but was stopped short when R'as Al Ghul added, "And remember Smoke, we leave our past on the doorstep. This task will test if you are truly committed to the League. If so, then we welcome you with open arms, if not… tut tut tut," he walked over to her, brushing a stray hair from her face, his eyes as cold as steel, "well then that won't go very well."

She fought back the disgusted shiver his touch caused and instead looked him boldly in the eyes, "I will defy fear itself."

_Oliver._

He sat up with a start, sheets tangled around his sweaty limbs. Breathing heavily, he looked wildly around the room. Oliver Queen could've sworn he had heard her voice.

_Her _voice, his girl's voice, Felicity's voice.

When he saw his bedroom was empty, he swung his legs off the bed, setting his feet on the floor and put his head in his hands. He ran his fingers through the short hairs, trying to rub away the remnants of the dream. The illusion of happiness in sleep was torn away from him by the stark feelings of reality.

_It was just another dream. It wasn't actually her._

He looked over at his side table.

_No Oliver, you need to stop waiting. It's been two years._

Five years of grueling pain, of loneliness with no compare. It was like the island all over again except this time he was surrounded by a sea of people and he still felt so alone. He felt like he had a hole inside him, slowly eating away at his heart, an ache that just wouldn't leave. He reached over to the table, and pulled open the familiar drawer. Putting his hand inside, he pulled out the objects he had perused every night for the last two years.

He held the slim band between his fingers, letting his thumb caress the delicate inlay of diamonds on the outside. In his other hand, he held her last letter to him. The letter she had left him on their wedding day.

The memory still pained him like a bullet wound to the chest. The memory of Diggle telling him she was gone, of him running, sprinting, to the dressing room, only to find it empty, her wedding dress thrown aside, and this letter lying on a coffee table, ring on top.

Oliver had tried his best to forget, tried his very best to at least numb the pain. Long nights fighting crime, doing almost dangerous actions in order to forget, it wasn't until Diggle had said something about him risking his life did Oliver finally stop and think.

He missed her so much. Her lilting voice, the way she cocked her head when she called him out on his bullshit, the beautiful color of her eyes, her soft lips, her babbling—god he missed her babbling—but most of all, he missed the feeling of knowing she was there, of having someone next to him at night, someone who loved him and understood him. It was like a warm blanket had been ripped from him, leaving him cold and shivering, exposed to the world and its horrors.

He clenched his hand, making a tight fist around the ring and brought it to his lips in defeat. The paper held creases and tear marks from the two years of perusing. His fingers found their way to their familiar spots. Oliver began to read the well-worn letter, the words already memorized, but there was a comfort in the letter, a feeling he got when he held it, like he was closer to her as he held the last thing she gifted him.

_Oliver,_

_I'm sorry, but I cannot marry you today. Before you think anything, it's not your fault. None of this is your fault. Me leaving is for me. I need to be strong Oliver. I can't have you saving me all the time—I am a weakness, something to exploit, and I don't want to be that._

_ I love you. I love you so much it hurts. Leaving you hurts, but I feel__—I Know it's the right thing to do. _

_ I__'ll be back someday, but there are some things I need to take care of first. Don't wait for me. Live your life, enjoy it. Continue being the hero I always knew you were. Starling City needs you, it needs the Arrow. _

_ Don__'t follow me. _

_ Love,_

_ Felicity Smoak_

Oliver ran his fingers over the familiar signature, tears rolling down his face.

_ I can__'t live my life Felicity, not without you._

Felicity Smoak was ready. Today was the day she would become strong enough to return to Oliver.

She rolled over on the bamboo mat she slept on, narrowing her eyes at the morning light that streamed through the window. A smile slowly grew on her face at the thought of what lay ahead.

_I'm coming Oliver._


	2. Chapter 2

**Light and Dark**

**(Part 2 of The Vow Not Taken) **

**By Leilah Ali**

It was a rare lazy morning in the Queen home. Felicity woke up with a groan, white sheets tangled around her legs. Sun was streaming through the open windows, temporarily blinding her with the blaze.

Looking at the time, she gasped at the late hour, silently chastising herself for sleeping in. Sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet with her.

"Morning sleepyhead," he said. She looked up to see Oliver Queen leaning against the doorframe, gazing at her with amused eyes. He was wearing loose pajama bottoms and nothing else. Her cheeks reddened as she thought of the activities of the previous night—when did he wake up? She certainly still felt slightly drowsy and more then a little sore.

_Well that__'__s where all the training and salmon ladders come in for him. Look at him, all perfect looking with his perfect scruff and perfect eyes and perfect abs and ugh__—__he__'__s so pretty it__'__s annoying._

Felicity panicked slightly when she thought of how she must look, and her hair was probably a rat's nest and she didn't even want to think about her breath—

"Brought you some breakfast." Felicity had failed to notice the breakfast tray Oliver was carrying, laden with sweet smelling pancakes and very red strawberries. And, yes, coffee.

"Bring me coffee!" She cried, hands stretched towards the mug, "Gimme gimme, yess."

He laughed as he handed her the mug, watching as she sipped hesitantly at the liquid. She felt content as the bitter taste of the hot drink touched her tongue. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, settling himself next to her on the bed.

She set her cup aside and lay next to him, snuggling into his chest.

"I never want this to end," he breathed into her hair.

"It won't," she replied, turning her head so as to look into his eyes. "It won't end, Oliver. I'm not going anywhere."

A look of doubt lay in his blue depths, but he kissed Felicity on the nose, eliciting a giggle out of her. She knew he didn't believe he deserved love, but she was going to work the rest of her life to make he knew he did.

There rest of her life.

_As Mrs. Queen._

Felicity Smoak awoke with a start, gasping at the sudden departure from her dream. She touched her face to make sure she was awake only to find it was covered in tears. She wiped her hands furiously on her Gi, the pajama like clothing that she trained in, and got up. She walked right out of her small bedroom, moonlight filtering through the windows to light her way. She slid open the familiar door that led to the training room, taking in the sight candles encircling its outside.

Striding to the middle of the room, she sank to her knees and began to take deep and slow breaths.

In, out.

_Oliver._

In.

_Stop thinking about him. _

Out.

_You were to going to be Mrs. Queen._

In.

Out.

The steady breathing calmed her heartbeat and cleared her mind. Felicity rose to the tips of her toes, raising her arms up and out in a stretch. It was a traditional meditation technique R'as Al Ghul had taught them to begin their days—and in Felicity's case—nights.

She had trouble sleeping.

Her dreams were plagued with memories of the past, preventing her from real rest, from the perfect solitude that slumber gave.

It was as if she were haunted by ghosts of her past.

"Smoke." His voice was a whisper in the dark, a tendril of vapor from the shadowy recesses of her mind. She turned to face him.

"Master." She bowed in reverence to the feared leader of the League of Assasins. His black eyes looked limitless, cold when they should've been warm in the flickering candlelight.

"Are you prepared for your test? It seems—" he paused, stepping lightly to join her in the middle of the room, an almost amused smile on his face, "that you could not wait." Felicity knew that the smile was a lie, for it did not reach his eyes. She felt like they were laser beams into her soul, as if he could _see _the ghosts that haunted her, the memories that tore at her emotions.

She feared he could see the real reason she came here.

_Not to become a member of the League of Assasins, that's for sure._

It was for Oliver. But he couldn't know that. He couldn't read minds.

But when she stared into the hardened face of the R'as Al Ghul, she questioned whether in fact he could.

R'as Al Ghul snapped his fingers. Two hooded figures appeared, carrying a box between them. They set it lightly on the floor, and disappeared just as quickly as they appeared.

It was a plain box, nothing elaborate. Dark wood with no clasp to hold the lid in place.

"It is time to see if you are truly one of us." He stood behind the box, lifting the lid he added, "Face your fears."

Smoke rolled over the lip of the chest, falling to the floor and traveling to her at a remarkable speed. It was like a blanket of cloud that was racing towards her. She stepped back, shocked by what she was seeing. A yell from the shadows made her jump, "Face your fears!"

The tendrils found their way to the tips of her toes, circling up her leg like a snake constricting a rat. The vapor touched her face, softly, like the caress of a lover. _Oliver. _Her heart beat faster in her chest. The smell of cedar and mud engulfed, a mad earthly scent that filled her nostrils and traveled to her core.

"Oliver!" She burst into the foundry, blond hair flowing behind her as she raced down the steps. "Oliver Queen!"

For a moment he thought his Felicity had come back to him. For a moment he believed the blond hair and worried tone belonged to her, but that allusion ended when the face of Sara Lance stood in his line of sight.

She shook him by the shoulders. Why did everything seem in slow motion? Her mouth was opening and closing, muted shouts seemed to come to him from under water. He shook his head.

Diggle's face appeared next to Sara's, looking to her for an explanation to her sudden reapparance. It had been two years since they had last seen year. Oliver supposed he should've been alarmed.

Sara relayed her information to Dig, but it still seemed to be muffled to Oliver's ears. Diggle's face fell, fists clenching.

"Oliver. Felicity's in trouble. Ollie." Sara shook him by the shoulders, her words ringing true and clear, engraining themselves in Oliver's brain with a painful heat.

"She needs you Ollie."

_She needs me, Felicity needs me._

He stood up abruptly, shocking both Diggle and Sara a step back. His face was contorted in an anger that Diggle had only seen once or twice before. Oliver strode to the glass case that sat by the desk Felicity used to man.

Grabbing his bow, he turned to his companions, steel in his voice when he said, "Let's go."

Pale light blinded Felicity Smoak. It was silent, too quiet to be reality, and cold, frost on her eyelashes making it hard for her to open her eyes. When she did, she took up a fighting stance, ready for whatever attacker she had to face.

But when her pupils adjusted to the bright light, she was surprised at what she saw.

It was a study of shades of gray, colors varying from white to black. She was in a forest, trees stripped of all their leaves, bare in the stark landscape. They were silent sentries, branches gnarled and grasping towards the sky, seeking a sun that wasn't there. Snow fell from above, drifting aimlessly to the floor.

Felicity took a step forward expecting the crunch of the ice beneath her feet, but there was none. Nothing she did made a sound. It was like she was in a glass box, and the world was on the outside.

She turned around, searching for anything, anyone, out here. Where was she?

Her silent breaths came out in puffs, as she began to trudge through the trees. The temperature was dropping; she could feel it on her skin, a tingling sensation on her arms and a lightheadedness in her brain.

Felicity stopped abruptly and blinked once, twice. A man kneeled facing away from her, about forty paces to the north. He was dressed all in black, a startling contrast to the white scenery, like ink on parchment.

"Hey! You there!" She called out. The man did not respond. She walked towards him, "Hey! Sir? Are you alright?"

She reached where he kneeled, walking around him to see his face. Covered by the hood, all that was discernible was the outline of a nose covered by shadow. He had his hands cupped before him, a single lit candle placed on the crevice. The flame flickered in the non-existent wind, sending a chill up Felicity's spine. This entire experience was creepy, eerier then her worst nightmares.

She tried to speak to him again, "Sir? Where am I?"

The silence was deafening. Her voice seemed to go nowhere, echoing nowhere, reaching nowhere. The silence was louder than anyone rock concert. It reached into her mind and curled there, making her eyes flicker about nervously, her hands wrap around herself, like they could be the shield against harm.

The man turned his head up to look at her, the flame in his hand flickering to and fro. The shadows fell from his face revealing pallid skin. Dead-like blue eyes bored holes into her, familiar lips pressed in a line, lips she had touched—_oh god_.

It was Oliver.

"Help me Felicity." He whispered, voice hoarse and pained, coming out like a scream in the soundless forest. "Help me."

Blood began to seep from his eyes, his mouth opening in an inaudible scream as the scarlet liquid began to leak out of there as well.

Felicity screamed, falling back in the cold snow, scrambling to move away from there, away from Oliver.

Blood pooled in a circle before him, it was almost like a still portrait. A man in black, laying in a pool of blood, with nothing but snow around him. Oliver Queen blew out the candle.

Then, darkness.


End file.
